


Unheard Roars

by therainsweep



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Beautiful Golden Fools, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-10-24 06:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therainsweep/pseuds/therainsweep
Summary: After Jaime Lannister killed the Mad King, Robert Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne. He chose to marry Cersei Lannister, to shore up the alliance that had brought down the Targaryens.Jaime, now known as the Kingslayer but still a Kingsguard, has to go to Casterly Rock to escort Cersei’s carriage to King’s Landing for the marriage ceremony.Screams of anger, pain, lust and love that no one could ever hear.





	1. Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! A few things before we start:  
\- I'm interested in exploring the story of the relationship of these characters and their past, seeing their depth, understanding their complexity, so that's what I'm writing for. We can say that this is the second part of this journey and here's the first one in case you don't know it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885984/chapters/47099164  
It's their evolution from children to teenagers, their first intimate moments together...  
You don't need to have read it to read this one. Here they are 20 years old, more "adults". Oh, and Delia is a character I created, their wet nurse.  
\- I've changed my writing "format". I'm a Drama student and dialogues are what I enjoy the most, what allows me to "imagine" and I wanted to focus on the characters. But I didn't want to turn it into a script either because I want to keep some "poetry". So this is the result. Invented.  
\- There will be 5 chapters. I'll try to upload one per week.  
\- English is not my first language.  
I hope you like it! Opinions are always welcome ;)

CERSEI half opens her eyes and wakes up with the sunlight. It must be noon already. Last night she had trouble falling asleep. Jaime arrived yesterday afternoon to Casterly Rock, in his Kingsguard’s armor, more handsome than ever, after _three years, one hundred fifty two days and seven hours_ without seeing him. Every second of his absence weighed as the greatest load. She hadn't been able to be alone with him yet. There was only a cold, regulatory welcome, in which he bowed to her and kissed her hand. Enough for her stomach to flutter. She thought that maybe her brother was now more normative, respectful with the proper manners. They went straight to the dining room and after dinner, he apologized and retired, tired, to his bedroom - or so he said.

She gets dressed for that hot day: a sleeveless pale pink dress and combs her hair. She covers her shoulder with a silk scarf, also pink with details embroidered in gold, for the morning breeze. She remembers what day it is and why Jaime is there. He had come from King's Landing to escort her back there, today they would leave, tomorrow she would marry Robert. The King. Tomorrow she would be _Queen_. And yet everything was bitter.

She leaves her room and goes downstairs. Looking for him. She hears laughter coming from the dining room. Jaime's and Tyrion's laughter. _What are you doing with him? Why didn't you wake me? Why are you not looking for me? Why are you not desperate to be with me?_

She opens the door and there she finds her brothers having breakfast together between jokes. She steps in.  
“Jaime. Can we talk?”

JAIME seems uninterested.  
“I’m doing so with Tyrion.”

CERSEI  
“It’s quite important.” (And _urgent._)

JAIME  
“So is ours.”

CERSEI is filling with poison, her brothers – although she only cares for one’s attention – ignore her, she needs to spit it out.  
“Really? I thought you two were too stupid for that kind of talks.” (She gives Tyrion a threatening look and then points the door with her gaze, inviting him to leave.)

TYRION holds her gaze and smiles at her. He’s not a child anymore and he wants his older brother to notice. He wouldn't give in to his bully sister.

JAIME interrupts the eye challenge on his brother’s favor.  
“Why don’t you join us then?”

CERSEI  
“Screw you!” (She walks away.)

JAIME stands up to stop her, fed up of her mistreating him, mistreating Tyrion; but still joking.  
“You wanted to talk. So now let’s talk!”

TYRION stands up to leave.  
“Okay, I’m leaving!”

JAIME stops him too.  
“No, you stay.” (He turns to Cersei) “You’re going to talk in front of him. Come on. I’m thrilled about what you’re going to say.”

CERSEI  
“What’s wrong with you? The Kingsguard doesn’t seem to agree with you. Or is it that you haven’t been fucking enough whores to calm you down?” (_Has he had any?_)

JAIME smirks.  
“You need to be one to recognize that lack?”

CERSEI  
“How dare you.” (She slaps him. After receiving the slap, JAIME catches her hand, she struggles, then he grabs her other hand and places them with his behind her back, immobilizing her and bringing her closer to him.) “Let me go.”

TYRION is surprised by his brother behavior and tries to figure out what’s going on.  
“Jaime! Let her go.”

CERSEI (to Tyrion.)  
“I don’t need your protection. Get out!”

JAIME (to Cersei.)  
“You need no one, don’t you? He stays.”

CERSEI  
“This conversation is over. I have better things to do. Let me go!”

JAIME slowly releases her and raises his hands, a sign of peace.  
“It’s always what the _Queen_ commands, isn’t it?” (He bows. CERSEI turns around to leave.) “Yes, you must be really busy. I've paved the way for you. I killed the king. You’re welcome!” (There is a grudge in his words, but he smiles.)

CERSEI is on her way to get out, touching the door handle but she turns her head and looks at him again.  
“You are blaming me for that?” In a very deep place where she preferred not to rummage, she feels guilty for it. She can’t stand that Jaime shared that feeling and exposes it.

JAIME  
“I was there because of you. I could have been here instead.”

CERSEI  
“You kill him yourself because you never control your impulses. Think twice.”

JAIME is getting upset and violently takes a step toward her.  
“Oh, but I do think and plan. Like that time… Do you remember? When I planned to join the Kingsguard.”

CERSEI laughs bitterly and turns around, leaning her body on the door and crossing her arms.

JAIME raises an eyebrow.  
“Except I didn’t. It was you, right? Planting the seed in my mind and letting it grow, to let me think it was my idea.”

CERSEI was about to speak, but she realizes there’s nothing she could say. She squints her eyes to make a threating look, turns around and open the door to leave.

JAIME quickly approaches her, closes the door with his left hand and rests it on it, with the right he forces her to face him and then he places it at the same level as the other. He traps her, the door behind her, his body in front and his arms at her sides.  
“I would have agreed. If you have asked me directly. But no, you like playing. So you toyed with me, like you do with everyone else, manipulate me. And I would have done it anyway… I gave up everything and I’d do it again. Because of you. And that’s the most pitiful truth.”

CERSEI looks up and then down to dry her watery eyes.  
“That’s enough.”

TYRION is understanding more of what he wishes. He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to know what he’s guessing.  
“It is!”

JAIME doesn’t change a bit.  
“And in return, what have you done?”

TYRION speaks once again to remain his presence to his brother.  
“Jaime…”

JAIME isn’t listening to him.  
“Going from Rhaegar to Robert.”

TYRION gulps, how not to think what he is thinking.

CERSEI pushes his chest.  
“What could I do? I was born before you. I’m the bloody heiress of Casterly Rock and I’ve never even had the chance to resign it because I’ve never be given the right to have it. I’m a _woman_, sold to the highest bidder.” (She agitates. Then she takes a breath and calms down to turn the rage that hurts her into sour sarcasm to hurt him) “Your life has been so difficult, poor boy of father, I pity you.”

A pause. Just one look. They’d swear they could hear each other’s heartbeat. The _three_ of them.

JAIME didn’t say what he thought. He gets it. _So_ _to show your fierce to the world, you chose a crown. But I chose you._

CERSEI grows tired of waiting for a response he wouldn’t give.  
“Move!”

JAIME  
“Cers…”

_Cers…_ His voice echoes her mind. His softness again. And she could crumble. Four years has been _too long_. She wouldn’t break now. _Not now_. She has to leave. As he can, she turns around, turning her back on him.

CERSEI  
“Move...” (Now she doesn’t commands, she asks.)

JAIME stops holding the door, instead he places his hands on her shoulders and buries his face in her hair. He squeezes her against him.

CERSEI allows it for some seconds and then steps away.

JAIME grabs her, but he only keeps her silk scarf in his hands.

CERSEI looks at him but finally leaves. He stands there, smells the scarf. _Her_. He hugs it, her sister’s figure just vanished.

TYRION clears his throat.  
“What was that?” (He asks doubtful, needing Jaime to deny it to him. He would buy whatever he told him.)

JAIME  
“It’s...” (_not what it seems_, he could say, but he surrenders defeated to the inevitable truth) “what it seems.” (He doesn’t hide, he looks at him.)

TYRION  
“It's hard to make you... angry.” (_Sad_, he means. He’s seeing Jaime’s teary eyes. His brother never cries, never will. Not in front of someone. Not even alone. Jaime is quiet, so he feels he has to say something. Maybe _comfort_ him?) “All that resentment… is just that you've missed each other.”

JAIME  
“I did. She’s been really good here: her home, friends...”

TYRION  
“She has missed you too, terribly.”

JAIME  
“She could have written!”

He says it with a rage that makes TYRION starts thinking how hard those years could have been for him.  
“Oh, so there it is.” Maybe his hero has needed comfort before. Maybe he has needed love too, he has needed her.

Both hear it, people booing: _Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, man without honor. _

JAIME  
“Just a sign to know she still thought of me.” _Just a sign to know she doesn’t think like them_. That’s all he cares about. His image in her sister’s eyes.

TYRION remembers diffuse images: Cersei on her desk, writing letters, a feather with ink in her hand, sliding over the paper.  
“I think she… “ (He remembers Cersei running out to meet a man on horseback who brought news and letters from King’s Landing, every day he came, she asked him eager, he shook his head, then hers looked down disappointed.) “Well, you… didn’t write her… either.”

JAIME  
“Of course I did!”

TYRION sees another image of their father reading a letter that had just arrived. He waited outside, thinking it would be Jaime’s, to ask him later. But his father threw it into the fire. He wondered why, it could have been anything, likely an Aerys’ new decision he didn't agree with. But then he ordered Delia to be called. He was furious and firm, she nodded shyly, almost ashamed.  
“Yeah. I don’t think… she ever read those letters.” (The image of Cersei writing comes back to him: a nervous smile on her face, not letting anyone come near her.) “She did write to _you_.” (_It couldn’t anyone else_.)

JAIME  
“What?”

TYRION  
“Delia was in charge of her mail. Maybe father told her… I think… she burned them?”

JAIME  
“No, she’d never do that. Delia wouldn’t burn Cersei’s letters. She must have kept them somewhere.” (He’s leaving.)

TYRION  
“Hey, you shouldn’t ask her about _that_.”

JAIME  
“I’m not asking anything. If you find her, distract her.”(He leaves the room.)

TYRION sighs: where he has got into.

* * *

JAIME is on his knees. He is in the center of Delia's room. A small room with a bed attached to the wall, a desk and a wardrobe. A bundle of cards tied with a loop in front of him. Papers around him, open envelopes and written papers. One in his hands. His eyes, which hold two tears, move quickly from right to left following the lines, filling himself with those words had lacked so much. His sister’s words, to _him_, saying that she misses him, that she loves him, asking him how he is, to come and see her… Words he had never read and that for her had been ignored. Maybe he could be sadder if he wasn't so angry. He could wreck and tear everything in he had in his hands, anything but those letters, the most precious thing he has now.

The door opens behind him.

DELIA  
“You can’t be here.”

JAIME  
“It’s my castle. I can be wherever I want. But you…” (He gets up and turns to face her.) “You can’t do this.” (He shows her the sheet.) “You didn’t have the right.” (He’s holding some letters and doesn't want to drop them, but if he wasn’t his hands would be around her throat.)

DELIA  
“I had the order! Your father told me… and for once I agreed with him.”

JAIME  
“You don’t know anything.”

DELIA  
“He doesn’t. He only thinks, or wants to think, you have a special affection that it’s a distraction for your – _his_ \- interests, that you are naughty together, a bad influence, and are better separated. But I _know_. What you do… It can’t be, Jaime.” (She begins speaking aggressively, defending herself, but her tone becomes sweet and sympathetic.)

JAIME  
“She trusts you. You lied to her.” (Her _sympathy_ is what bothers him the most right now.)

DELIA  
“To protect her.”

JAIME  
“From me!?”

DELIA  
“From harm! The day your father took her, she was devastated. You don't know how she cried on the trip. Every day here was a nightmare. I think she truly believed it was and just hoped to wake up. She walked soullessly. I've never seen a more broken, split heart.”

_Cause I had her other half_, he thinks.

JAIME  
“We could have been in touch, talked, arranged something. You saw her pain and did nothing to heal it.”

DELIA  
“What I did was to prevent her from more. Prevention is better than cure, they say. You have to stop this. Listen to me. It will bring a lot of disgrace. To everyone.” (Not that he cares.) “To both of you. To _her_. The forbidden fruit, my love. You can’t taste it: expelled from Paradise, condemned to Hell.”

JAIME ducks down, picking up the letters to leave.  
“You can't decide this. I’m going to tell her.”

DELIA  
“Don’t, Jaime. Not for me. For her. This is an act of selflessness, what I’m asking you to do. But that’s true love. Let her think you didn’t write, you didn’t care. Let her hate you a little. Release her from you. That way, you’ll give her a chance for happiness, with Robert: handsome king, brave warrior. She worships him, wanted to become his Queen. But she sees you and gets confused.”

JAIME  
“You’re asking me to keep her away from me?”

DELIA  
“I’m asking you to help her not to climb that altar with doubts.” She carefully breathes in and out. She has said it. The air is dense. She will lighten it. “You’ll always have each other. As brother and sister. No matter what. That's unbreakable. Her blood pumps and stirs in your veins, yours in hers.”

She slightly nods, asking him a question.

There’s a pause. His life in a decision, a moment, a gesture, a nod or a shake.

JAIME finally nods to her. He’ll do as she says.

DELIA  
“Come here, my boy.” (She stretches out her arms and he goes to her.) “You’re a good lad, a pure heart.” (They hug.)

He is convinced he would do anything for her sister's sake even if it means letting her go.


	2. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of her wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry, broken computer, just had it back, hate writing on the phone. Life doesn't want me to be organized. I had it written, but it needed some touches and I haven't been able to do it until now. The bad thing is that I haven't been able to write these days and I don't have anything for next week. I'll try my best to have the following by next Friday. Hope you like it!

The big day has arrived. It’s a sunny day in King’s Landing, one more, but today everything shines with a special glow, that only seems an excessive ornament. People are on the streets, crowding the wide and long road from The Red Keep to The Sept of Baelor. The septon is in a small room, finalizing details. The guests are there. All the noble families of the Seven Kingdoms. At the King's wedding. Waiting. Impatient. Whispering. How many of them have had the pleasure of meeting the recently crowned king? And what about the girl who from now on will be queen? How many have seen her?

* * *

Robert comes out of the castle with four Kingsguards. He climbs into his _litter_ carriage, a windowed cabin suitable for a single occupant with wooden rails that pass through brackets on the sides of it. There’s a man standing at each of the four ends.

SER BARRISTAN gives the order as Lord Commander.  
“Bearers.” (They grab the brackets.) “Up.” (They lift the litter.) “Walk.”

They all leave for the Sept.

* * *

DELIA sees it from the balcony of Cersei’s chambers.  
“Hurry up, girls!”

CERSEI is sitting at her boudoir table. One maiden is doing her hair, another one her make up. Two others just finished dressing her. Now they help their peers, handing them the products. After a while they look at each other to confirm.

MAIDEN  
“We’re done, m’lady.”

DELIA  
“Thank you. You may go.” She smiles at them as they leave. To Cersei. “Oh, you stand up. Let me see you.”

CERSEI does it, slowly, looking directly at Delia, avoiding her own reflection in the mirror.

DELIA  
“Wow. The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” She really is. Delia contemplates her. “The final touch.” She looks down at the golden box she’s holding. “I was given it earlier this morning, haven’t seen it yet.” She leaves the box on the table and opens it.

There's the crown. It’s _hers_. CERSEI looks at it. She doesn’t see a jewel, but everything it symbolizes. Vanity.

DELIA takes it delicately and puts it on her head.  
“And here you are: the most beautiful Queen.”

The crown is a little heavy on Cersei’s head, not a weight that pulls you down, but holds you up. And it fits perfectly.

DELIA  
“Say something, honey.”

CERSEI  
“I can’t breathe.”

DELIA  
“That’s nerves.”

CERSEI  
“No.” _She can’t_ be nervous. “It’s the corset.”

DELIA  
“Sure.” She's holding a chuckle. _My proud girl_. “I’m proud of you.”

CERSEI  
“Could you ensure if everything is ready for me to leave?” She needs a moment alone and Delia perceives it.

DELIA  
“Right, darling.” She lowers her head and walks away.

CERSEI is left alone with her reflection. The one that didn’t look before and now wants to do so. She looks at herself sideways. Wanting to savour it little by little… controlling herself, greedy of lust. And afraid. Of fear.

* * *

When he hears the door closing and steps moving away in another direction, Jaime turns the corner and approaches the room. There is a Kingsguard watching it, his fellow, dressed just like him.

JAIME  
“I got this. Go check that the queen's litter is ready.”

Then man nods surely and walks. Jaime stands in front of the door and as soon as he rounds the corner, he walks in without knocking.

Jaime finds her with her back to him, staring into the mirror. He first notices her blonde hair braided in a high updo. Her long neck is visible, white as milk, and appetizing. He lowers his eyes at her shoulders, back… He supervises how the dress adjusts to her waist, where there is a thin golden belt and then it falls in flight, in a lighter fabric that mixes with the one of the long long sleeves, a lion on the right, a lioness on the left, embroidered with golden thread on white.

Everything is white and gold. Tywin himself chose the colors of his daughter's dress. Lannister gold. Not red this time. It was a Targaryen color and there have already been too much blood. Now a new era of peace would begin. Cersei would represent it. _The light of Westeros._

He looks at her front in the mirror. Now from bottom to top. And slower. More carefully. The cloths flying to the feet, adjusting up to the waist, the belt, the thin abdomen, the swelling of her breasts, the cleavage – pronounced -, the collarbones, that neck again where he could get lost… the chin… the mouth… _her_ lips... Before the spell is too strong for him to make it out of there unharmed, he decides to skip the enchanting emeralds of her eyes and look instead at the one that shines in the center of her crown.

He stops focusing the detail to get an overview.

The most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Cause he hasn’t seen more world, but if he had, she would still be the most beautiful woman who ever lived in history.

He suddenly notices her eyes diving into his. Green in green. Through the mirror. Neither of them moves.

CERSEI speaks low, but determinate.  
“You shouldn’t be here.”

_That’s her greeting._ Two can play this.

JAIME  
“Why not? I came to see the bride before the wedding. _I_ can.” He remarks, and then swallows. “At the end, I’m not the groom.”

CERSEI repeats it, slow. Clear. Accepting the challenge.  
“You are not.”

JAIME  
“It suits you. The crown. You’ve always been one, but now you are _the_ Queen. You were always meant to be.” He waits a beat before speaking again. “I’ve never been.”

CERSEI  
“Jaime, - ” w_hat are you here for?_

JAIME  
“Did you know that I sat on the Iron Throne?”

CERSEI shakes her head. She frowns.

JAIME  
“I did. After killing Aerys, with his dead body at its foot and his blood on the stairs. I climbed them and sat on it.”

CERSEI  
“You are not what they call you.”

_She knows_. Of course. An illusory part of him hoped those names would have never reached her ears. _Don't pronounce them. _The rest of the world could witness his infamy. _Not you._

CERSEI  
“You killed no King, you stopped a mad man from destroying a city. You broke no oath, you saved thousands of innocent people.”

JAIME  
“Facts speak for themselves. Ned Stark arrived and found that view. Enough to judge me. He made me get up but he didn’t sit down. Then Robert arrived and he did. New King. I'm surprised he pardoned me. I murdered the king I swore to protect, yet the new one wanted me in his Kingsguard.” Could it be possible that she had asked it as one of the conditions of the marriage agreement?_ Did you demand that I should stay here, by your side?_

CERSEI  
“You made his reign possible.” Another strong hearbeat. “All he has. _It_ could have been _yours_.”

He doesn’t say a word.

CERSEI  
“Why did you get up?”

JAIME  
“It was cold and uncomfortable. Bad seat.”

CERSEI  
“Why did you sat down?”

JAIME  
“I don’t really know.” _Perhaps to understand you, why you have always wanted it so bad. Perhaps to picture me as king for one brief moments, your king, and you as my Queen._ “Perhaps to complete the betrayal. It worked perfectly. I earned those nicknames. The gratitude of the population of King’s Landing. I'm not keen on this city.”

CERSEI  
“Will you leave?” She strives to make her voice sound clear. She needs _one_ answer, desperately. She looks straight at him to figure it out.

JAIME  
“Maybe I’ll come back to Casterly Rock, be father’s heir.”

CERSEI  
“When?” _Please don’t_, her eyes beg.

JAIME  
“I have to make up my mind.”

Beat.

CERSEI  
“You’ll be happier there.” _Ask me not to marry._ She would probably refuse, claim he has lost his mind, but there she is: needing to hear it, to have him go crazy asking for it.

If as long as the eyelids are closed in a blink could it be possible to dream of that, what would they do? _Flee?_ Go nowhere and be no one. She would never dare to give everything up. So he doesn’t dare to ask. He's surrendered to the circumstances.

JAIME  
“I hope you find your happiness here.” _Ask me not to leave. _Rhaegar or Robert. The hatred of a city. He would stay.

Another beat. _Nothing _else.

CERSEI  
“So… you came to say goodbye?”

_Does he?_

JAIME  
“Yes...”

_Does he?_

CERSEI  
“Then… goodbye.”

_Does he?_

JAIME  
“Goodbye.”

He turns around and leaves, without closing the door. He throws himself against the outside wall.

Her first impulse is to go after him, but she stops at the door, resting on the wall.

So close, yet so far. _Only_ a wall between them. What is it made of? Wishes and impossibilities, rules and restrictions: what I want to have, what I have to do, what I _cannot_.

He feels a touch in his hand that makes him tremble, a cloud caress. He knows it’s her, doesn’t need to look. He holds her hand, as soft and tender as her touch was. That changes when she grabs it and takes him fiercely back to the room, to _her_. He just lets himself go. She pulls his hand to her waist, they surrounds her. Her hands travels then to his neck. They cling to each other tightly, as if they grasped with less force the other could vanish. Their foreheads meet. Their noses caress. Their breaths mix.

Their lips couldn’t be closer yet without touching. He breathes her in. She breathes him in. That’s all the air they need.

CERSEI whispers in his mouth.  
“This is the last time…” The tone begins to be affirmative but becomes a question. Her sweet murmur goes into his mouth. Like a poison. Like she is asking permission or passing him the responsibility for what is going to happen.

JAIME  
“It is.” His voice has never sounded so low.

As it is, they are allowed to devour each other. Their lips meet, hungry. Soon their tongues too, thirsty.

Her hands grab his scalp. As if she could bring him closer. They travel down his neck and tear the shoulder pieces, then the plate chest off his armor. It falls to the ground. Dull thud. She touches his chest above the shirt. Warm, strong and beating.

He grabs her ass and attracts her to him, like she has done before, as much as possible. As if they could melt together. She feels his erection and lets out a little moan. She unzips his pants while he pulls up her skirts and grabs her ass again, this time squeezing her flesh. He lifts her up and takes her to the boudoir table. His pants and underwear fall at his feet.

He rubs his hard cock against her cunt to verify her wetness.

CERSEI bits his lower lip to prevent a louder sound than the one she lets out.   
“Inside… Now…” She strokes his cock guiding him to her entrance.

Jaime fills her. She receives him, wraps him. They begin to move. Slow. Then faster. Harder. Mixing gasps. Muting moans. Touching each other with avarice above the clothes, when they can underneath. They want everything from each other. Now they know no kingdoms, kings or weddings. The only thing they still have in mind is that they have to be quick. _Urgency_. Maybe there’s a small space that recognizes its _prohibition_ and maybe that increases the _desire_. No, it isn’t desire. It’s _need_, extreme, deep, uncontrollable. To consume away together.

CERSEI  
“Jaime…” She’s about to come.

His name in her delicate sharped voice is like the smelling a rose, petals and thorns. He can't have one without the other. But he wants both. He would bleed to touch it.

JAIME  
“Shh, Cersei. Please.” He was having a hard time tyring not to scream, not to make every living soul in King’s Landing a judge of his pleasure.

She arched her back as she comes. He holds her and bends over with her. He kisses her quickly to drown her coming moan. It’s useful to silent him as well. Because when he feels her walls contract, he comes in her.

He rests his head on her shoulder.

They fight to get their breath back. Rapid heartbeats.

CERSEI embraces him, calming him down, whispers.  
“No one heard… No one can hear…”

So neither of them says _I love you_.

Instead he looks at her eyes again, hand on her cheek, making her look too. He strokes with his thumb her swollen and red lips of their wild kisses, as an apology in case he hurt him. To add something balsamic, he now kisses her gently, light as a feather.

DELIA knocks.  
“Honey?” As she hears no response, she tries to open the door. “Why is it locked? Are you okay, are you ready?”

They separate. He pulls up his pants. She jumps off the table and lowers her skirts.

CERSEI out load, for Delia to hear.  
“Hold on!”

JAIME rescues his armor pieces and tries to put them on noiselessly, when he does, he goes back to her, caresses her face again.  
“Are you?”

CERSEI  
“Yes.”

JAIME nods and turns around to open the door. When his hand leaves her skin, it gets so cold she fast has to grab his wrist.

CERSEI  
“No…” She hugs him.

DELIA  
“What’s going on? I’m going to open.” She searches for the key.

JAIME  
“It's gonna be okay. Robert knows what he's got and will treat you like you deserve, like the _treasure_ you are.”

CERSEI holds him thither.

JAIME  
“I’m staying, I'm not leaving until I make sure of that. I promise.”

They pull away to look at each other’s eyes. He does a little nod, she does another. His thumb moves on her cheek, his forehead goes to meet hers.

DELIA finds the key, introduces it in the lock.

One _last _kiss.

DELIA opens the door.

JAIME stands in front of her, his hand on the knob.

DELIA  
“Oh.” She furrows her brows indicating disapproval.

JAIME  
“I’m escorting her.”

DELIA  
“That’s fine.” She makes a waning look.

CERSEI stands at the other end of the room.

DELIA  
“How are you feeling?”

CERSEI  
“Good.”

DELIA  
“We have to leave now.”

She nods.

JAIME  
“Your Grace.” He bows and indicates the door.

CERSEI  
“Ser Jaime.” She goes towards him.

They walk. Corridors. Stairs. Hall. Gardens. They arrive. There are the other two left members of the Kingsguard, four baerers and the squared litter. He gives her his hand, helps her get in and closes the door behind her.

JAIME  
“Bearers.” He could _kill_ them all. “Up.” He could _break_ than door and set her free. “Walk.” He could _take_ her and get her out of there.

Instead, there they go. Because she is free – _is she?_ – and she has chosen that – _has she?_ -.

However, there they go and he’s leading them all. There they go with the most precious present, the one he has packed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd appreciate a review ;)


	3. Let you go

JAIME  
“Bearers. Put it down.”

Jaime opens the litter’s door. Cersei goes out. He reaches for her eyes, she looks around. The street is full of people, on both sides, also on the stairs up to the entrance of the Sept. She introduces them to their new Queen. She smiles at them superiorly. _They all are here for me._

Her gaze goes then to Jaime. He stretches out his arm. She grabs him. They climb the outside stairs to enter the Septum.

All Jaime can think with each steps is how they look together: _what they all are thinking of us_. He pictures the image they would be seeing. The two of them walking together, arm-in-arm, dressed in white and golden clothes, shinning skin, bright blonde hair, green emerald eyes. He knows he is handsome. And what would he say about his venerated sister. There's no more attractive couple in the Seven Kingdoms.

TYWIN  
“My two beautiful golden children.”

They arrive at the gates, where their father is waiting for the bride. They smile doubtfully at him.

JAIME bows  
“Father.”

When CERSEI releases her arm, he realizes how tight he was holding it. He loosens his grip and just lets her go, passing her to their father.

JAIME bows again  
“My Queen.”

They exchange a last look. Jaime enters to the Sept. To take his place. As a Kingsguard, as a brother.

* * *

CERSEI grabs the arm of a proud Tywin and for the moment she feels the reason for that pride. They go inside.

Silence. The heads of all the guests turn to look at her. All noble houses. And she’s more powerfull than all of them: children, woman and man. She feel admired, she feel envied.

CERSEI sees Robert. In front of her, standing higher than everyone on top of some stairs, at the end of the hallway they walk through. Her feet move gracefully to him. He looks at her too. Handsome. Fierce. Strong. The only one who is stronger than her. The only one to whom she owes respect from now on. He is a _King_. Every woman wants him but he’s _hers_.

They get to the front rows. To the left is the Baratheon family. On the right, the Lannister, all her uncles and cousins.

First row, Tyrion, Jaime and a place reserved for Tywin. Cersei doesn't look at them.

She can't look to the sides anymore. There’s no right no left. No option, doubt or regret. Only one direction, one fate. The witch told her: he would marry the King. She can only look ahead, and up. That promised future is about to be hers.

She climbs to her father those five stairs that lead her to Robert.

One: They make eye contact.

Two: They smile. They both are pleased with what they see.

Three: Jaime ducks his head.

Four: Tywin releases his daughter, goes down to his place.

Five: She climbs it alone. Robert reaches out to her. She takes his hand, then his arm.

There she is, she has left the rest behind, she’s besides his King. It’s unstoppable. It’s going to happen. The only thing she doesn’t have to do is looking back. Never look back. Not look at _him_.

_You will wed the king. _Maggy’s voice echoes in her mind.

Together they climb other five last stairs to the altar where the septon waits for them.

That’s the way is has to be.

_Queen you shall be. _Maggy’s voice again. That sound takes her and guides her.

Robert places his cape on her shoulders and they stretch out their hands together.

THE SEPTON binds a tie   
“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

CERSEI and ROBERT in unison.  
“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his/hers,” – their voices mix, hers fragile, his low – “and she/he” – again, hers firm, as if it was the most important moment of her life, his as if he has nothing better to do – “is _mine_, from this day, until the end of my days.”

SEPTON unbinds the tie.  
“Let it be known that Cersei of House Lannister and Robert of House Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be _he _who would seek to tear them asunder.”

JAIME bites his lower lip.

They kiss and turn to the guests, they cheer, they rise their intertwined hands.

JAIME swallows, not to vomit. DELIA gives him a nudge and he applauds like everyone else.

* * *

The feast is ending. Time has never passed slower to him, each instant weighs on him more than his armor, overwhelms him more than the heat of the sun's rays on its metal. Jaime is standing, walking around the table, unable to take his eyes off her.

A rectangular table on a platform for the newlyweds, the King on the right, the Queen on the left. To their sides, their two families. More tables on the ground, one for each family invited. There is a circle empty space at the center for performances, although they – artistic: songs and dances, juggling, theaters… - have finished, the guest keep playing. Dessert has been served. Everyone walked around the garden with a glass, that is emptied and filled several times, in their hand. Robert and Cersei are one of the few people still in place, while different families walk to the happy couple to praise them with lovely words and wish them a prosperous marriage and future. Cersei laughs as if she likes everyone.

_She hates all of them_. Jaime thinks. _But no one notices. Impeccable performance. The most hypocritical of hypocrites. She is certainly the Queen._

JAIME goes to where Delia and Tyrion are sitting.

DELIA looking at Cersei.  
“She’s having fun.”

JAIME  
“She’s drunk.”

TYRION  
“As you should.”

JAIME  
“Seems you’re doing it for me. So considerate,_ little_ brother.” Emphasizes the _little_ to point his inappropriate state of drunkenness.

TYRION  
“No one’s looking. Your watch ends.” He takes a cup and fills it with wine for his brother.

DELIA takes the jug from him when he's not done yet.  
“It won’t do him any favor. And you’ve had enough.”

TYRION picks it up again, fill up the glass and hand it to Jaime.  
“We all need a bit of this medicine, you too. We’re the boring table, the faulty Lannister and the old nurse. And here arrives the sworn brother to save the day.” He fills his and Delia’s. “Let's toast!” He raises his glass.

DELIA  
“It’s almost over.”

JAIME  
“Then I think I can get going.” He makes the pretense of leaving.

DELIA stops him.  
“You have to stay until it ends.”

TYRION   
“Drink until you forget your name.”

JAIME  
“Nothing would please me more.”

MAN 1 shouting  
“The marriage ceremony!”

MAN 2  
“Tear off the Queen’s dress.”

Some men rush to her.

TYWIN  
“We’re missing that part.” Blunt and unaltered.

_Thank you, Father. _

ROBERT  
“The Queen will arrive to my chambers totally dressed. So will I.” He sentences. They stop in their tracks. “But we won’t alone.” His derisive tone returns and cut the tension he has created. “I don’t think I can stand either.” And here’s the joke, everyone laughs. “Take us!” He commands.

They move again. The men are approaching Cersei and the women, Robert. Their hands touch her body. About ten pairs of dirty hands touching her soft white and golden dress, over her softer whiter more golden skin. They lift her up and joke about shaking her, tossing her up high in the air and catching her again.

JAIME takes the cup and drinks it in one go.

MAN 3  
“Kingslayer! Come carry your sister to your King.”

JAIME's hand quickly grabs the handle of his sword.

TYRION  
“Jaime.”

DELIA   
“Don't even think about it.” She rests her hand on his. “Although I’d do it myself.” She holds his hand and squeezes it making a small caress.

JAIME gets off her touch.  
“That’s quite enough.” He walks out.

The armor is neither silent nor discreet. Some glances that pay attention to the King and Queen are distracted by his departure. Before the first tear escapes from his eye, he puts on his helmet and comes out.

DELIA and TYRION look at each other, not knowing what the other knows. They sigh. 

CERSEI and ROBERT are carried away, between whistles and acclaim.

* * *

They are left alone in his chambers. The animated screams fade away until there’s only a dense air between them.

Both are standing in front of each other, looking at each other, a few steps away.

ROBERT  
“Take off your clothes.”

CERSEI hesitates - _wouldn’t he like to do it himself?_ \- but she does it, slowly.

ROBERT looks, from her neck to her toes, eyes burning with desire. He licks his lip with lust and comes closer.   
“You’re beautiful. You must have heard it many times, don’t you?” He passes his hand for her breast and pinches her nipple. “Oh yes, you are. Look at that.” He points at his hardening cock and smiles. “It’s a shame no one has seen it before. Untouched. Sculpted by the Gods in flesh. For me?” Both hands massaging her tits, rude and vulgar.

CERSEI shyly nods as the image of her ideal King vanishes.

ROBERT  
“You’re perfect.” He says it as if he despises her for it.

He turns around her and looks, studies, every inch of her bare skin, its color, texture, moles and marks, sizes. He closes his eyes. He concentrates. He strives to bring a concrete image to his mind. He seems to find it difficult. All the wine he has drunk doesn’t help him to invoke, but it will to believe. When he has the selection, he opens them. He looks again at Cersei's body. He compares it. He places the substitution on it. He dares to exercise as a sculptor, he has the audacity to model this divine creation at his whim. Finally he is able to raise his eyes to her lips. He touches them. They bother him. Those pretty sexy lips. He wishes they were enough, but they have no use for him. He detests himself for it. He detests her for it. He also molds them. He doesn't look any higher. He avoids the eyes because his disguise spell would break. And he couldn't do what he's going to do.

ROBERT  
“Lie down in bed.”

CERSEI obeys.

He strokes his cock until it’s totally hard.

ROBERT  
“Open your legs.”

She does it as he climbs on top of her. He’s sweaty. The rubbing of his skin leaves her dry, frozen. He stinks of wine. She tries to inhale it, get drunk and out of there.

ROBERT introduces his cock in her and whispers in her ear.   
“Lyanna.”

That takes her breath away. She comes back. To avenge she can only do the same. She tries. She closes her eyes and thinks it’s Jaime, his hand that touch her, his lips that kiss her, him who is inside of her and she feels… empty. Of course it doesn’t work. Jaime’s hand are softer, his kisses lovely, his body warmer, as stronger as his but yet tender and it just belongs to her. This was awkward, _unnatural_. She feels like a ghost, a corpse. Jaime would look at her, she would be staring her reflection in his eyes, she would feel alive and being, herself and right.

When he finished he lies besides her, she turns around and gives him her back. He soon falls asleep. She hears his snoring. She turns to cheek it and gets up.

She needs to leave now. Without thinking she gets out. She covers her body with a robe. There must be Kingsguards at the door. Maybe one of them is _him_. _No_. She hopes it’s not. _He wouldn’t deserve this_.

She opens the door and closes it behind her. None of them is him. She feels relieved. She feels inconsolably devastated.

KINGSGUARD 1 looking at her with playful eyes.  
“Where does Your Grace go? She can not go alone. Dangerous hours.”

CERSEI  
“I must have eaten something that disagreed with me. I need some herbal infusion to calm my stomach down.”

KIGSGUARD 2  
“Do you want us to call master Pycelle?”

CERSEI  
“Oh, no. I have some. I felt ill before and he gave me this morning, I have some left.”

KINGSGUARD 2  
“As you wish, Your Grace.”

She doesn’t leave.

KINGSGUARD 2  
“Anything else, Your Grace?”

CERSEI  
“Where is… _J… my… - _Oh, nothing. I was going to ask where is… master Pycelle’s room. But it won’t be necessary. I’ll go to my chambers and lie there for a while until it takes effect and I feel better, I don’t want to bother the king, or… _anyone_.”

KINGSGUARD 1  
“I can escort you. It’s not bother at all.”

KINGSGUARD 2  
“No, he won’t. Let us know if you need anything.” He hands her a lighten candle.

* * *

She walks in. Her dark and lonely chambers. She takes off her robe. She picks one piece of cloth, submerges it in the jar of water on the table and washes her body. She doesn't care that the water is cold, that it's night and it's cold or the force with which she rubs it. If the only thing that she feels is the cold of the water, the pain of the cloth… better.

She puts on a nightgown.

She looks at the bed. She trembles at the idea of lying there alone. She takes the candle and goes to the door. The White Sword Tower. She doesn’t know where his room his, where she has to go, but she knows where she wants to arrive. To him. She’ll find _him_.

She stops when she touches the knob. She can’t. It’s so unfair. She has to release him from her load.

She comes back. Leaves the candle on her bedside table.

She still can smell him. He was there, so short ago.

_“Cersei.”_ She even hears his voice that calls her.

_Loneliness_ she feels. She doesn’t want to see it. She blows out the candle. Its fire is extinguished but the light is not gone. It comes from behind her.

JAIME  
“Cersei?”

She turns around as if she was going to find him. She finds him.

CERSEI  
“What are you doing here?”

JAIME  
“I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t expecting to find you. I’m sorry.”

_How could you be sorry?_ She doesn’t speak. Is he real? Did she lie on bed, fell asleep and can’t remember?

JAIME  
“I didn’t want to intrude. You are not supposed to be here. What are you doing here?” He feels the violence in his question. He could ask that to his sister, but how would _the Queen_ respond to him?

She takes some air, choppy, to be able to talk. When she is going to let it out, she bursts into tears.

He goes to her and embraces her. It’s his sister again who needs him. When his arms surround her, her knees finally stop making effort and weaken so much that she lets herself fall to the floor, she know she won’t touch it because he’s holding her. And so it happens. He holds her up.

He lifts her slightly and takes her to bed. He lies her down on her side, while he kneels on the floor. He pulls her hair away from her face. He combs it with his fingers. He caresses and wipes her tears. He kisses her under the eyes, on her closed and clenched eyelids, her cheek, her temple, her forehead. Until she relaxes.

JAIME  
“Shh… look at me.” 

She does it. The blurred sight slowly becomes his face. That face so well known.

JAIME  
“Please, tell me something.” _Tell me what you need, what to do. Shall I kill him? Shall I get you out of here? _“What happened?”

CERSEI  
“You want to hear it?”

JAIME  
“If you want to tell it.”

CERSEI nods.  
“It was awful. It hurt. I… bleed. He was disgusting… and cold, very cold. I was, too. I am. I’m cold, Jaime.”

JAIME hugs her and covers her with the sheet.   
“I’m here.”

CERSEI  
“He wasn’t with me. I was only a body, soulless, with a face that wasn’t mine and when he was on top of it… in _it_... he whispered _her_ name in my ear.”

JAIME keeps wiping her tears, lighter now, with his thumb. He kisses her cheek again.

CERSEI  
“I hate him! And I shouldn’t – It’s all his fault - but more than him… I… hate… _her_.”

JAIME  
“Lyanna?”

CERSEI nods, like she’s ashamed, makes a pause.  
“Am I so hard… to love?”

JAIME  
“What? No. I’ve done it since my first breath, maybe from before, and I will until my last one.”

CERSEI  
“If one of them had did it… If Rhaegar had enraged when Aerys broke our engagement, when father took me out of here… If he had refused, if he had rebelled, done something… But he married Elia. One or the other, he didn’t care. Until he meet… _her_. They say he kidnapped her, but I don't believe it, Rhaegar wasn't like that. They fell in love and ran away together. You knew them, don't you think so?”

JAIME nods. He’s never thought of it, he doesn’t know. But if she wants to believe that he’ll let her.

CERSEI  
“The problem was that Robert loved her too. And he went after her, to find her, and if not to avenge her. And the rest… it’s history! No one will remember it like that, no book will say it, but this war just started by loving the wrong person.”

JAIME  
“All of them. It's not hate that moves the world.”

CERSEI  
“If just one of them had loved me… It could have avoided it. My two betrothed… They started a war for another woman. _Her._” She almost spits it. She won’t pronounce her name.

JAIME   
“So…” So far she is right and he could pierce Robert with his sword, but first he would make her smile. He usually laughs at her exaggerated envy. “You feel guilty because you started a war or jealous because you didn’t?”

CERSEI hits him.  
“Oh, Jaime, you’re a fool.” But she can’t help a laugh.

JAIME fakes a pout, inside he celebrates it. _Got it._

CERSEI  
“You don't understand a thing.” She pretends annoyance as she fights to erase the smile of her face.

JAIME  
“Of course I do. I’d start a war, and a thousand, because of you. I’d fight, kill and die… for you. I love you.”

CERSEI places her hand on his cheek, so delicate.  
“I love you too.” She looks at it with _what would I do without you_-eyes.

He holds her hand and takes it along his cheek to his lips, other cheek and lips again; brushing himself with it. Her eyelids finally rest with his affection.

He wonders how anyone could not love her. He would love her for all of them. He sees her so vulnerable that he swears to himself that he won't let anyone hurt her.

He presses a soft kiss on the back of her hand and leaves it on the bed.

JAIME  
“I'll be right back.”

CERSEI opens her eyes of a sudden.   
“Where are you going?”

JAIME  
“To… - ” _beat up Robert and if it doesn't kill him, he won't be able to touch you in a few months_ “- get you some soothing warm herbs, so you can have some sleep.”

CERSEI  
“No more of _that_, Jaime.” She asks him. “I don’t need herbs to sleep.” She clarifies and smiles at him using her same excuse. “Just you come here.” She moves leaving space besides her and uncovering the sheets for him. “Stay with me.”

JAIME lies down and embraces her. _Always._

She covers them both, hugs him and rests her head on his chest. He kissed her head and caresses her in his arms.

That’s when he realizes that he could never go, he could never leave her, he could never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me more than I expected to write this chapter. It doesn't convince me yet... I keep thinking about it, maybe I will be changing some things. So if you would take the time to leave a review I would appreciate it very much. ;)


	4. Drift

JAIME is in the boat, in the sea of what they used to call _Casterly Beach_. Hands on the oars. The sun is high up and his chest, sweaty and shiny, is exposed. Behind him, his jacket and shirt, wrinkled.

He's been avoiding his sister for days, yet he has gone to the place in Kingslanding that reminds her the most. He doesn't want to face her, but he accepts that he can't stop thinking about her anyway.

He looks at the shore and sees a figure too familiar. _It can't be._

CERSEI waves her hand and greets him. He greets her back.

She takes off her shoes...

_She’s not going to… _

She takes off her dress…

She stands in corset – too thigh - and a white skirt – too thin- , which only the slight air that there is can move.

_Fuck her. _

She goes into the water and swims towards his direction.

So there’s the one thing he wants most and he doesn't want her to go; the one thing he can’t have and she’s going to him.

He loses her at times when she immerses herself in the water and dives the seconds she can hold without breathing. But then she appears and he finds her again. Seeing closely now how her features emerge one last time, on the port side of the boat, he wonders if his sister's greatest daring is to be so beautiful.

CERSEI  
“Hello, sailor.” She smiles at him.

JAIME  
“Hello, mermaid.”

He spends some – rather long - time contemplating her so she has to ask him.

CERSEI  
“You help me in?”

JAIME  
“Sure.”

He reaches out his arm, she grabs him and he pulls her up until she's in the boat. She sits in front of him.

CERSEI  
“Do you come here often?” She looks at the boat he gave her for their sixteenth birthday. Where they used to lie down and forget about the world, looking at the sky in the cradle of the waves, merging with the flora. Together. Except that she hasn’t been there in four years. She examines every new crack, every millimeter of raised paint or gnawed wood. There is all the time they had been robbed.

JAIME  
“Sometimes, yes.”

CERSEI  
“I like you do it.”

JAIME  
“It’s not the same.” _Without you._

CERSEI  
“The water is always changing.” She watches the waves crashing on the shore. “And in that impossible line” – she points the horizon – “they go and come back, but they are not the same.”

JAIME  
“Isn’t it inappropriate for a queen? To be here.”

_Not for your sister. _

CERSEI  
“No one will know.”

JAIME  
“You leave little to the imagination.” He points with his hand - not his eyes - the obviousness of wetness from her now messy hair to her clothes.

CERSEI  
“That’s underwear.” Of course he has noticed _that_, but she remarks it with indifference. “The dress is resting on a branch, pristine. My hair will have dried when I return and I will braid it myself.” 

JAIME  
“All right then. You thought of everything.”

CERSEI  
“Well.” She looks down at herself. “There’s not coming back either.” 

_Is there?_

He follows her eyes. For the first time he allows himself to look at her body. A fire runs through his spine.

It would be lust at her long neck, the shape of her clavicles, her cleavage, the upper part of her breasts sticking out, her narrow waist, the wet skirt now almost transparent and glued to her body, revealing certain parts. And he should be holding the desire of having his lips on the path his eyes travel. But something else wraps it. There is anger. That untouchable body has been marked, that perfect skin has brushes, and that delicate soul would be hurt. Fingerprints, slurps and bites. So that she doesn’t forget, so that he remembers. Robert’s right against Jaime’s impotence.

He has done it, yes, it was fights, it was survival, it was orders; but he then understands _why_ to kill.

There’s a silence and when she realizes his eyes on her marks she tries to cover them pulling her hair on the front. He looks away. 

He lies down. She does the same. He takes care that their arms do not rub.

JAIME  
“Let’s get out of here.” To no one. A faint almost inaudible whisper, neutral.

But she answers.

CERSEI  
“Okay.” She lies on her side and looks at him with attention. “Where?”

JAIME doesn’t look back at her.   
“To the Free Cities.”

CERSEI  
“Yes, let’s leave now. We won’t need a map, a compass, gold, clothes, food, or weapons. _Just you and me_.”

He savors in his mouth the bitter irony of what comes out of hers. He doesn’t respond. He turns around and gives her his back. He doesn’t like being teased. Cause for him _that_ is actually enough.

CERSEI enjoys little games. She doesn't stop to think what truth is behind her words.  
“Let’s go. We go drift.”

JAIME  
“Drift?” That’s how it's always been with her. Drift and drown.

CERSEI  
“Where the winds and tides take us. We let them and trust they’ll lead us to a good port. We just lie here.”

JAIME  
“Until we starve?” Is this the game she wants? She’s playing the dreamer and he’s the realistic. Her words are a poison, as appetizing as damaging, a lie even she finds hard to believe. He won’t take it this time, he won’t let her make a mockery out of his most desperate deep wish.

CERSEI plays her ace. She comes close to him until there's no distance between their bodies.  
“We go into the water” – he feels the swelling of his breasts wrapped in the wet corset against his back – “and fish,” - her hand travels up his arm – “catching them” – when it reaches his shoulder, it travels down his chest – “with our own hands.” It stops in his under belly. His cock isn’t immune and it responds to her touch. “You’re strong.” Her lips gently bite his ear lobe. She isn’t unaffected by the firmness of his muscles, the heat of his skin and the sweat of his chest mixing with the sea drops on her.

He could do as she commanded. He could easily picture himself grabbing the oars and rowing away with her. Or nearest, he could picture himself turning to her, grabbing her and kissing her and making love to her on that boat until she screamed his name and the whole realm would hear it.

She knows well that effect. She has thrown her cards. She is best player in every game. But she plays with fire. And not only her, who maybe deserve it, but both of them would burn.

JAIME  
"You’re cold. We should be going back.” He pulls ways and sits down again.

CERSEI  
“Good.” She is a bad loser and she’s ready to plunge into the water and go swimming. 

JAIME grabs her wrist and stops her.  
"Enough of this nonsense. You're gonna get into troubles…”

_What kind of troubles, Jaime? _She looks him in the eyes, with flames in hers. 

JAIME  
“… with the people in the castle. Or sick.” Pause. He swallows. “Cover yourself.”

She squints her eyes and challenges him. She wants to get undressed, tear off her corset, sit down on him, with her cunt rubbing his cock and his face between her breasts. Let’s see if he could resist her then.

But his eyes become sad and again he rejects the challenge. When he notices that his grip is very strong, he releases her wrist and he sees Robert’s fingers there too. Not letting what's his go.

Then she realizes how unfair she’s been. She was the one who forbade it, who said _it was the last time_, who just married the king, who had his husband inside of her last night and who moved away each time his brother has come closer in the past few days. _Jaime..._ who's there for her, who just wants to take care of her. And she doesn’t even let him do that.

Now she feels completely naked. Terribly vulnerable. Guilty. She embraces her arms and looks down. He picks up his shirt and places it delicately on her shoulders. His hands rest there a little longer than necessary. She covers herself with it. He rows back. Not one more word to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd appreciate a review ;)


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